Okay, this is another one of the stories that just wouldn't get out of my head, so I had to write it.

SUMMARY: Jenny is a teenage girl who is desperately unhappy with her life. At night, she starts to dream that she is a hawk - the hawk that becomes Tristan's closest companion. Before long, she starts to realise that it is no dream, that she somehow does become the hawk. She sees what makes Tristan become so quiet and reserved. Can she change his fate, or will he die despite all her attempts to save him from his greatest enemy - himself?

Please review.

24/1/08: Well, I was reading this story on my computer the other day and spotted all these mistakes that made me want to die with shame - so I'll be going through the chapters, editing parts. Thanks to everyone who continues to read this long after it has been updated.

'Hey, Jenny, are you coming to Ben's party tomorrow?'

I looked up and met Linden's blue eyes. I shook my head, fighting back a desire to scowl.

'No, I wasn't invited.'

He raised an eyebrow, and I wished for the hundredth time that I was going.

'And Conrad's party tonight?'

Again, I shook my head. I had to work hard to stop myself from glaring.

'Not invited.'

This time he raised both eyebrows. 'I thought you'd be invited to both – or at least Ben's.'

I shrugged, not trusting myself to answer without my voice catching. I knew that Ben, Conrad and the others didn't really like me. They just let me hang around with them because my best friend, Rachel, is going out with Ben.

Thankfully the bell rang then. At last it was the end of the day – and we were free to go home. It was the weekend, but it stretched bleakly ahead of me, boring and uneventful compared to everyone else's.

'See ya, Jenny,' Rachel said, hugging me.

I hugged her back and grinned. 'See you on Monday.'

She smiled and walked off to Ben who slung his arm around her shoulders. I heard them talking of the party to come, the party I wasn't invited to.

With a sigh I shouldered my school bag and started the long walk to the bus. Hayley waved as I went past, and I waved back, but I was running late and didn't stop to talk.

I reached the bus and got on, paying my fare and validating my ticket. The acrid stench of the petrol fumes made my head hurt as I took my customary seat – one of the single ones on the middle of the bus.

I'm not a very social person – largely I prefer to be with animals rather than other people. I spend most of my time with my horse, a twelve year old Morgan mare. She's black with a white star, and has the sweetest temperament – as long as she's in a good mood. If she isn't, she's a real demon.

I call her Ebony, not that it makes any real difference to her. I'd like to be able to say that we have a mutual bond and all that, but we don't. Often she bites, often I growl at her, and she doesn't seem to really care if I'm there or not. But I love her, and she doesn't hate me, so we get along well enough.

Luckily for me, the first bus stop is the one closest to my house, so I get off before I can start to feel too lonely.

As I walk home, I reflect on my life. It's pretty dismal.

I'm an only child, I'm fourteen, in year 8 at school – and have a horse. That's about the extent of my life, and it's pretty bad really. I don't go out a lot – my friends often go to parties and things on Friday and Saturday nights, but not me. I'm never invited.

Yeah, I know. It's pretty sad. But hey, that's my life, and there's nothing much I can do to change it.

That night I dreamed.

I have a pretty wild imagination. Perhaps its because I often wish my life was different. In my dreams, I can have everything I don't have in real life. But this dream was different. It felt so real. I could smell the flowers nearby, I could hear birds singing and the leaves rustling in the wind. I could feel the sun on my back.

I was on ground. It felt wrong, I couldn't move properly – just hop a few steps before collapsing. The trees overhead looked very far away, and everything was in very sharp focus. It was like wearing glasses – I could see the texture of the bark beside me, I could see every last vein on the leaves above me.

I tried to call out – but I couldn't speak. Instead only chirping escaped my mouth. Chirping? What was I, a bird or something?

I tried to move my arms, but I didn't have any. Instead, wings fanned the air – my wings – and I clicked my beak in amusement. Yes, I was a bird.

All my bird instincts were telling me to go up, to the nest that I had fallen out of. I tried to fly, but I couldn't get off the ground. Apparently, in my dream I was only a young bird.

My acute hearing alerted me to something in the bushes nearby. There was a rustle – and out came a wolf, its ears pricked and its pale eyes trained on me with interest.

Okay, I knew this was a dream, but it seemed so real that I was really scared. I forgot that it was a dream – I became the bird.

I flapped my wings and screeched. The wolf approached. It looked very big from down here on the ground. The teeth were very long and rather yellow as its tongue lolled out of its mouth. The beast came closer, and I screeched again.

Suddenly something flew over my head and into the wolf. It let out a howl of rage, turned, and fled. Something was sticking out of its shoulder – an arrow, my human brain supplied.

There was the sound of a very large, heavy animal approaching. I turned, and found myself staring a huge pair of boots. I looked up – and up, and up, until finally I reached the person's face.

He was about twenty-five, perhaps a little more. He had a curiously flat kind of face, with dark brown eyes and long dark hair that flopped forward. There were several braids, one with an iron ring.

He crouched down, and I took an ungainly hop backwards. He stretched out a hand towards me – and I pecked. I bit furiously, but he didn't withdraw.

His hand didn't move as I bit at it. At last I grew wary and backed off another step. His hand came forward again, and I again I attacked. This went on for a while, until at last he spoke.

'Steady, little bird.'

His voice was low with an appealing roughness. There was a strong accent, and it soothed me. I let my ruffled feathers lie flat again.

'Come with me. You'll die if you stay out here. Come with me.'

He held out his hand again. In it there was a chunk of meat. It smelled good – my animal brain said eat it. I reached forward, but he shook his head.

'You'll have to come with me if you want it,' he said. 'Come on.'

Willingly I hopped up to perch on his arm. I dug my talons in, and although it must've hurt he didn't make a sound. He offered me the meat – and I took it. It was raw, but it tasted better than anything I had ever had eaten as a human.

'Good girl,' he said softly, standing up. 'Good bird.'

I fluttered my wings as he stood, trying to keep my balance as he walked through the trees. He swung up onto his horse – I clicked my beak in protest as I nearly fell – and rode on at a walk.

He talked to me the whole time, softly and gently. He gave me more of the meat, until I learnt to eat from his hand without biting his fingers. At last I felt comfortable and relaxed enough to preen my feathers.

Already I was starting to feel an attachment to the man. He was quiet and gentle, and he didn't try to touch me too much. Once he tried to stroke my feathers, but I snapped at him and he retracted his hand quickly.

He rode his horse through a gate and into a courtyard. Another man came out with short brown hair. He took the horse's reins and peered at me. I snapped my beak in warning.

'A hawk, Tristan?' the man asked, raising an eyebrow. 'What are you going to do with it?'

The person who I was perched on shrugged. 'Don't know. Set her free when she's old enough, I suppose.'

The man nodded and led the horse away. Tristan walked to his room, carrying me through the fort. Hadrian's Wall was huge. There were Roman soldiers everywhere in red cloaks, patrolling or off duty. There were numerous buildings, but Tristan knew his way around. We were soon at his room.

Once inside he held his wrist beside the back of a chair, and I stepped off his arm onto the wooden seat. He smiled slightly, but I didn't like having stone above me rather than the blue sky.

'Well, beautiful,' he said softly. 'You're going to have to stay here for a while until you're strong enough to survive in the wild.'

I clicked my beak, and he smiled. He ran a gentle finger down the back of my head and between my wings, stroking the soft feathers. I snapped, and he withdrew his hand quickly.

'Fiery, aren't you?' he whispered. 'Don't worry. I won't hurt you.'

Somehow comforted, I resumed preening my feathers. He went out, making sure that the window was closed. I tucked my head beneath my wing. The comforting smell of Tristan made me feel safe as I fell asleep.

I woke as the golden light of early morning streamed through the curtains. I stretched, recalling the memories of the dream I had had last night. It had been a good one, about being a hawk. I remembered the scent of Tristan, the smell of the forest, horse and sweat mixed together. It had seemed so real.

I curiously sniffed my hair – traces of the scent lingered on me and my clothes. Suddenly I realised that in my mouth was the taste of the meat he had given me. I sucked in my breath sharply as my heart began to pound. How much of that dream had been real?